


The Asset

by Staubrey4eva



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Benji Applebaum - Freeform, Chloe Beale - Freeform, F/F, Pitch Perfect - Freeform, beca mitchell - Freeform, bumper allen - Freeform, cynthia rose - Freeform, fat Amy - Freeform, jesse Swanson - Freeform, jessica and ashley, lilly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5640574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staubrey4eva/pseuds/Staubrey4eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stacie Conrad is an Operations Officer in the CIA's Clandestine Service Counterproliferation Division; she's being re-stationed in Brussels to assist a team with intelligence gathering on weapons trafficking by the Russian mafia. She must cultivate relationships with potential assets, one of whom is art student Aubrey  posen, an American pursuing a second graduate degree and working part-time as a consultant for a Russian businessman. Santana needs to secure Aubrey  as an asset to help stop the proliferation of small arms and explosives to an elusive terrorist splinter cell before the group can lodge attacks against key U.S. insta</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The asset

.

I. Flight UA 838, Bangkok to Washington, D.C.

She had a 24-hour flight to contemplate why Langley was pulling her from her assignment in Bangkok. Stacie had thought that she was doing a good job; you don't get pulled from a challenging and career-making position for a good reason, she reflected. But, the director of the Counterproliferation Division, her boss, said that the NCS Deputy Director herself requested her presence at Langley.

By the time that she reached Tokyo five hours later to change planes, Stacie resigned herself to not knowing. Whatever the issue was, she knew that she would follow protocol, take her orders, and move on. It was what she did, what she knew how to do. It was why she had the job as second-in-command in the Bangkok station in the first place.

Nearly 12 hours later when she landed in Chicago to change planes yet again, Stacie had finished reading Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment again; she felt compelled to stay practiced in her many languages, Russian being one of them. The novel proved a great distraction from all of the "what if" scenarios rolling around in her head about why she was headed back to D.C.

As the flight attendant announcement that they had arrived at the gate, she shifted in her seat to adjust her stiff muscles, wincing slightly at the tug on the side of her rib cage—an old injury from a gun fight in the dark streets of Bangkok after a meeting with an asset had gone awry. Those were the memories that she wants to forget, the pain and the violence, yet she knew that this was what she signed up for with the Agency. Her initial reasons were, of course, idealistic and altruistic, and at times, even now, they still are. But, she knows better now, too. She knows that nothing is black and white, that her decisions could fall into moral or ethical grey areas. Her conscience had to adjust to that. At the same time, she also knows that she is helping; she sees it in the thankful faces of the people whom she saves or whose lives are a bit better because she stopped the bad guys, at least for the moment. The altruism is still there, lurking amid the grey.

As she walked to her next flight, through a very busy O'Hare airport, she suddenly felt the nerves bubble under her skin; she knew that she'd go straight from Dulles to work—a car would be waiting for her, so she had no choice. Twenty-four hours on a plane then a meeting with her boss didn't seem fair, but it seemed so…Langley.

Two hours later and she was in the car traveling along busy D.C. highways, through the secured area, and then up to the doors of the Agency. It had been at least two years since she had been there, and she had her luggage to contend with this time. After going through the rather lengthy entry process, she took a deep breath as she stepped on to the elevator. She didn't think that she exhaled until a few floors when she found once again in her old stomping grounds, the oddly quiet hustle and bustle of the Counterproliferation Division.

"Conrad, great to finally see you," she heard coming from a voice behind to her. She turned around and softend at the smiling face of her boss, Charles Reeves.

"Charlie, it's great to be seen," she replied. "I think," Stacie added with a wry smile. They shook hands, and he took her luggage as they walked towards the end of the hall.

"It's all good news on this end," Charles said softly, hoping to alleviate her obvious anxiety. "We're meeting with Deirdre right away; she wants you briefed so you can start prepping."

"Charlies, c'mon. I just got off of a 24 hour flight and you want me to meet with the Deputy Director and expect me to be coherent?"

"You'll be fine." He paused. "Excited possibly." She glanced at him with curiosity.

Stacie had only met with Deirdre Campbell twice in her 11-year career; this time would be the third, and she was more nervous now than before. When they arrived at her door, Charles stopped her by putting his hand softly on her forearm. "Breathe, Conrad. It'll be fine," he assured her with a soft smile, one that she remembers fondly when she was first assigned under his command—the smile that a revered mentor gives to one of his favorites.

He knocked and a confident voice responded, "Enter, please." The last thing that Stacie saw as she entered the corner office was a glare off of the brass nameplate: Deidre Cooper, Deputy Director, Clandestine Services. Stacie felt her heart lodge in her throat.

They sat quietly in the dark brown leather chairs on one side of the mahogany desk. Deidre was finishing up a memo on her computer and hadn't so much as looked at her two visitors. "Give me one second, Charlie and Stacie. I need to finish up this briefing memo for Kate." Charles nodded, but all Stacie could think was that Deidre rolls "Kate" off of her tongue like they're old sorority sisters rather than boss and employee-Kate, as in Kathryn McCullough, Director of Clandestine Services, one of the most powerful and respected people in the American intelligence community.

Deidre finally trained her eyes on her guests and smiled warmly. "It's nice to see you both; thank you for coming in." The other two nodded and smiled in return. Deidre pulled a file out of a drawer to her left and moved it with both hands towards the center of her desk, eyeing Stacie the entire time. "Conrad, I have a new assignment for you," she said with a seriousness that belied the smile that crossed her face. "It's in Brussels."


	2. Debriefing & Relaxing

98Chapter 2  
II. Clandestine Service, Langley, VA

"Brussels?" Santana asked quietly.

Deirdre smiled knowingly as she opened the folder and took it with her as she reclined in her high-back leather chair. Charles glanced at Santana and sat back, waiting for Deidre to continue.

"Yes, Brussels. We have a small station there but are looking to gradually increase our presence given some recent intel that we've been receiving about Russian mafia operations in the city. This is where you come in," Deidre then paused to glance at Stacie pointedly, trying to convey that what she was about to say was significant. Santana gave a small nod in acknowledgement.

"We've learned that that the weapons proliferation arm of the Russian mafia has become, shall we say, more visible in Belgium, and we believe that they may be establishing a point of distribution there, setting up sales, that sort of thing." Deidre exhaled before continuing. "We need another officer there to contribute to human intel collection. You've proven your effectiveness in Bangkok, and your knowledge of Russian history and politics will be an asset to this investigation. I want you in Brussels within 72 hours ready for a briefing with the station chief."

"Ms. Cooper, I'm honored that you've selected me for this position," Stacie replied with a look of wonderment on her face. This was huge; the Deputy Director handpicked her for this expanding investigation.

Charles leaned over and nudged her. "See, I told you good news." Stacie snorted softly in response and gave him a half-smile, one that conveyed both relief and a hint of excitement.

"Yes, well, I'm sure you need to head home and get settled before coming in for a debriefing from Bangkok. Then, I want Charles here to fill you in on more details for Brussels. You'll be heading in three days, and when you touch down in Belgium, Corcoran will want you ready to dive into research and then head into the field." Deidre closed the file and handed it over to Charles. With a nod and a handshake, Stacie left the Deputy Director's office in a state of bewilderment.

As Charles walked next to her, he glanced a few times in her direction; Stacie had suddenly become quite interested in the innocuous beige carpet. "You okay, Conrad?"

"Corcoran?" was Stacie's only response.

"Shelby Corcoran, the station chief in Brussels. She's good. The team is small, which for such an operation will be good; you don't want too many cooks in the kitchen." Stacie nodded knowingly. She only knew Shelby by reputation—highly intelligent, sophisticated, no-nonsense, and efficient. Stacie wasn't sure whether or not she would like working with her, but Shelby's reputation was positive if nothing else.

They entered Charles' office, and Stacie looked around at the familiar setting—bookshelves graced with everything from Steve Coll texts to Cold War history books. She sat down in one of the chairs at his desk, noticing immediately the difference in comfort compared to those in Deidre's office. She allowed herself to be comfortable with Charles and ran her fingers through her thick black hair, feeling like that she was getting some of the plane trip off of her.

"So, kid, you better brush up on your French and Russian," Charles joked as he sat down across from her.

"C'mon, Charles, you know me; I don't need to brush up on anything. I'm always good-to-go." The cocky smile on Stacie's face drew a chuckle from her boss.

"There it is, the confidence. Glad to see Bangkok didn't soften you." Stacie winced at that, thinking back to the skirmish in the streets, the feel of the bullet ripping through her side and the vision of her own bullet shattering the skull of one of her enemies. Charles immediately leaned forward with a look of concern. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine, Charles, I'm fine." She exhaled, straightened her posture a bit, and gathered herself. "So, what can I know right now about this operation?"

"The basics, until Brussels when you'll be fully briefed." She nodded before he continued. "This is what I know, beyond what Deirdre told you. We've been getting buzz about small arms and explosives getting into the hands of Al-Qaeda splinter cells—or at least cells who claim that they're connected to Al-Qaeda. We think they're coming through the growing proliferation arm of the Russian mob. Corcoran will have some more specifics regarding names and all that."

He paused, scratching his graying beard, a gesture he made when he was either contemplating his next move or assessing the person across from him. Stacie wasn't sure which he meant this time. While she waited, she noticed that his shirt was in its usual rumpled state, the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and his tie was partially unknotted. He looked like a cross between a disheveled physics professor and an accountant. Though, Stacie knew that in the 1980s, Charles was a keen and highly valued intelligence officer working during the tail end of the Cold War. She enjoyed hearing his war stories from those days and hoped that she could one day make the same contribution that Charles has.

"Look, Conrad, from what I've been told, we don't know a lot; this is why they brought you in. The op is in its infancy, but the belief is that these Russians could be big players in supplying these small organizations with arsenals."

"So, no concern about biological or nuclear weapons?"

"Not at the moment. We're thinking that these smaller cells, which, as you know, have fewer financial resources, will go for the small caches. As you also know, these smaller cells can cause a lot of damage because they operate in isolation and in remote areas."

"Yeah, and a lot of them have nothing to lose," Stacie added. She knew this from her experience in Bangkok. It routinely surprised her at the will that some of these men (because nine times out of ten that's who she faced down) had at achieving whatever their goal was and the lengths to which they would go. Death didn't seem matter to them; she grappled with this concept everyday that she had to go into the field with her gun concealed, never knowing if she would need to use it.

Charles nodded in agreement, and they both fell silent, reflecting on this sobering knowledge. Charles then softly slammed his hands in desk, signaling the end of their reunion. He stood up from behind his messy desk and leaned his hip to the side while crossing his arms to rest on top of his growing beer belly.

"Get out of here Conrad. Go home, relax, get a drink. You'll need to be back here by 11 tomorrow for your Bangkok debrief." She rose to meet his eye and extended her hand.

"Thanks, Charles, for everything." They exchanged smiles, and Stacie grabbed her luggage as she headed for the door.

"Don't let me down now," he said in way of goodbye. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"You know me, Charles, I would never do that," Stacie responded with a full grin as she exited his office.

As she walked to the elevator, she suddenly felt the weight of the flight and the meeting hit her. She ran a hand through her hair as she blew out a puff of air. Her mind reviewed her plan for the next 18 hours before her debriefing the following day. She reached for her phone in her messenger bag as she headed towards the exit and the car that awaited her. Stacie stopped just as she exited the building, realizing that she had no one to call, no one to tell that she was back stateside.

A flood of emotions washed over as she settled into the back of the black Lincoln Town Car. She was nervous for this new assignment, but her pride trumped that; she knew that she could do this job well. And, she was always up for the challenge. She also felt a bit humbled that her division singled her out to be added to the team in Brussels. Then, almost like that bullet that perforated her skin a year ago, a sense of emptiness tore through her.

Stacie knew that this was part of her job with the Agency—the loneliness, the isolation, the fear of those two aspects of her life. She also knew that she was good at handling it; she liked being alone, but, at times, she craved some kind of connection, whether it was physical or emotional. Right now, she wasn't sure which one—or both—it was. She just knew that looking at her cell phone with no one to call made her not want to go home to her small Dupont Circle apartment. That drink that Charles mentioned was sounding better and better. With that thought, Santana leaned forward towards the driver.

"Would you mind dropping my luggage off at my place? You can just leave it with the doorman."

"Sure, no problem." the driver answered firmly.

"Thanks."

"Where to, then?"

"Churchkey, Logan Circle." Stacie sat back, closed her eyes, and smiled to herself. She was looking forward to that drink.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey just to let you know there will be staubrey chapters soon!!!!!!!

III. Logan Circle, Washington, D.C.

As the Town Car slowly maneuvered its way through evening D.C. traffic, Stacie reflected on the absence of friends or friendly contacts in her phone. With that thought, she quickly reached for her messenger bag and rifled through to a pouch that she sewed into it, a hidden compartment. From it, she pulled a different phone, a personal iPhone that she rarely used. She found the bookmark that she was looking for on her browser and checked the calendar on the site. It looked like Avery was available; hopefully, Stacie thought, she would take a last minute date with an old friend. She dialed a number that she hadn't in two years, hoping that it was still working.

"Hello?" a warm, smooth voice answered.

"Avery, hi. It's Casey. It's been a while," Stacie lowered her voice a bit, almost whispering into the phone.

"It has been a long time. It's good to hear your voice."

Stacie smiled as she let her head fall back against the leather seat. "I saw that you were free tonight. Care to join me for a drink?"

"Well, you know I don't do last minute dates, but in your case, I can make an exception. I haven't seen you in…what? Two years? It'd be nice to catch up."

"It would be. I'm heading to Churchkey in a bit. Want to meet me there?"

"I'd love to. Is this just drinks or did you have something more long term in mind?"

Stacie grinned again. "Something more long term."

It was Avery's voice that dropped this time. "You know I like our longer dates; I'm looking forward to seeing you. How about eight at Churchkey?"

Stacie glanced at her watch; she had time to head home. "Eight it is. I'll see you then." Avery said goodbye, and they hung up. Stacie tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Sorry to do this, but can we head back to my place. Change of plans."

The driver flicked his eyes up into the rearview mirror and smirked, "No problem." Stacie had half a mind to smack that smirk off of his face, but she suddenly found her second wind and didn't seem to care all that much.

It would be really great to see Avery.

###

Stacie only had an hour and a half before her date, so she hurried around her one bedroom apartment in Dupont Circle. Unpacking wasn't on the agenda, so she shoved her luggage in the closet. Her apartment felt foreign to her, but at least it was clean, she thought.

After showering and slipping into a simple black cocktail dress, Stacie finished her hair and added a small amount of make-up—not that she needed it, but a little lipstick never hurt. She then had to transfer all of her items to a small black purse—her cover story items, like the State Department I.D. and driver's license with "Casey Law" listed next to her picture. Before slipping the plastic cards into the purse's matching wallet, Stacie stared at them, internally shaking her head at the idea that she lived more as Casey than as Stacie.

She quickly walked a block or two north, grabbed some cash from the ATM, and headed to Kramerbooks to get Avery's gift. After paying for James Gleick's The Information (an item on Avery's wish list), Stacie slipped an envelope of cash inside the front cover before putting it back into the bag. From there, she caught a cab and made her way to Churchkey. She couldn't help but thumb through the book; Avery never ceased to surprise her with her range of interests. This time, it was a book about the information age, a topic that the two women had yet to discuss over the course of their 'dates.' Stacie looked forward to what was always a relaxing and engaging conversation with the beautiful and intelligent Avery.

The cab driver stopped in front of the small beer bar and gave Stacie a gruff "thanks" after she paid him. Stacie knew that Avery would already be there with a table in the often crowded bar; she climbed the rather steep steps and shook off the small wave of nervousness that crept up on her. She had seen Avery a number of times when she lived in D.C. and was working in the Counterterrorism Division, but it had been a while and she felt…rusty, for lack of a better word. But, she knew that Avery was kind and would be forgiving for any missteps that Stacie might make during their date.

Avery sat at a small table near the front of the bar, against the glass that looked over 14th Street. Stacie grinned and walked over to the table. Avery rose to meet her.

"Avery, you look stunning as always," Stacie offered by way of a 'hello.' They hugged, and Avery softly replied, "As do you, and you smell good, too." Avery had turned her head and caressed Stacie's neck with her cheek as she inhaled the mixture of Stacie's shampoo that smelled like a rainforest and her perfume, which Avery immediately noted was new.

Stacie handed Avery the bag, which Avery took then pulled the book out while she sat back down at the table.

"Thank you for the book. I can't wait to start reading it." Avery flipped through the first pages and didn't visibly acknowledge the envelope, but Stacie knew that she saw it. She also appreciated the trust because Avery didn't open the envelope this time. She'd make a pretty good spy, Stacie thought amusingly.

Stacie settled into her chair. "I was surprised by the topic. I'm used to discussing literature with you. I'm not sure that I'm ready for any IT talk." The smile that accompanied Stacie's quip drew out a similar grin from Avery.

Avery laughed softly and tossed her curled long brown hair over one shoulder, which contrasted nicely with the sleeveless red dress that she was wearing. She knows that I like her in red, Stacie reflected as she watched Avery's hands toy with her hair. "Well, I'm not ready to discuss IT yet either, so we're safe. Do you want a drink? I waited to order until you got here."

"I would love a drink," Stacie replied with a bit more enthusiasm than she had intended.

They each ordered one of the many draft beers offered and then decided on sharing a cheese plate. Their conversation was easy and relaxed; Stacie missed this. She missed her stimulating conversations with Avery; she missed D.C. And, the realization that her stay here would be short-lived weighed on her. She'd be stuck with Belgian beer and no Avery for an indefinite amount of time. Stacie visibly changed with this thought, and it didn't go unnoticed by Avery. Their evening had gone well so far, and they were about to leave when Stacie's mood shifted.

Avery reached her hand across the small table to grab Stacie's . "Hey, are you okay? Did I say something to upset you?"

Stacie immediately shot her head and looked into Avery's eyes. "No, of course not. I just…" she hesitated. "I have to go overseas again to do some research, and it just hit that I'll miss this." She shrugged in an effort to convey nonchalance, but Avery wasn't biting.

"Miss what? The noise in here?" Avery tried joking.

Stacie gave her a half-smile before she said, "Good American craft beer and talking to you." The look that Stacie sent Avery's way was almost shy, which Avery had never seen from Stacie 

(well, Casey, really).

"I've missed talking to you, too. I'm glad you called." Avery always knew how to reassure her, Stacie thought.

"Any interest in not talking?" Stacie playfully asked in a lowered voice as she quirked an eyebrow.

Avery's blue eyes sparkled as a bright grin spread across her face. "Not talking with you sounds exactly how I'd like to spend the rest of the night."

Stacie paid the bill, and they jumped into a cab to head to Stacie's apartment. Not talking was exactly what Stacie needed.

###

Avery always knew what she needed, Stacie reflected as she tightened her grip in chestnut-colored hair and arched her hips. With Avery's tongue skillfully bringing her closer to another orgasm, Stacie tried to let everything slip away—the stressful travel, the pain, the loneliness, the anxiety about her new assignment. Right now, in the dark with a woman who knew her only as Casey, Stacie felt more grounded and connected than she had in a long time.

Hours later, Stacie had her arms wrapped around Avery while Avery traced her fingers lightly along a taut abdomen. She kept returning to a jagged scar on the left, just above Stacie's hip. "What happened?" Avery asked quietly.

Stacie was brought of her reverie and opened her eyes. She dragged her hand up Avery's back into her hair. "Hmm?"

"What happened here?" Avery repeated, delicately running her finger over the scar.

"Oh that. Wrong place, wrong time."

"I didn't know economic research could be the so dangerous."

Stacie could hear the smile in Avery's voice, and she laughed softly at the reply. "I didn't either. I'm glad I don't have to go back to Belarus for a while."

"I'm glad you don't either."

It amazed Stacie that this woman, who barely knew anything about her except how to make her come over and over again, could make her feel cared for, even here in the stillness of the early morning. She felt safe at the moment, which, in her line of work, often seemed like a rare commodity. Avery continued drawing her finger over the scar before kissing it and tucking her head under Stacie's chin. They fell asleep like that, and Stacie wondered if it would always be like this: seeing Avery every two years for one night and then going off to a foreign land without the prospect of feeling warm and safe for who knew how long. It wasn't enough, and she knew Avery was just a quick fix to a larger issue. Despite all of her protest to the contrary, Stacie wanted something more significant. How she was going to find that when she was flying off to Brussels in 48 hours was an entirely different problem that she wasn't ready to face.


	4. Chapter 4

III. Logan Circle, Washington, D.C.

As the Town Car slowly maneuvered its way through evening D.C. traffic, Stacie reflected on the absence of friends or friendly contacts in her phone. With that thought, she quickly reached for her messenger bag and rifled through to a pouch that she sewed into it, a hidden compartment. From it, she pulled a different phone, a personal iPhone that she rarely used. She found the bookmark that she was looking for on her browser and checked the calendar on the site. It looked like Avery was available; hopefully, Stacie thought, she would take a last minute date with an old friend. She dialed a number that she hadn't in two years, hoping that it was still working.

"Hello?" a warm, smooth voice answered.

"Avery, hi. It's Casey. It's been a while," Stacie lowered her voice a bit, almost whispering into the phone.

"It has been a long time. It's good to hear your voice."

Stacie smiled as she let her head fall back against the leather seat. "I saw that you were free tonight. Care to join me for a drink?"

"Well, you know I don't do last minute dates, but in your case, I can make an exception. I haven't seen you in…what? Two years? It'd be nice to catch up."

"It would be. I'm heading to Churchkey in a bit. Want to meet me there?"

"I'd love to. Is this just drinks or did you have something more long term in mind?"

Stacie grinned again. "Something more long term."

It was Avery's voice that dropped this time. "You know I like our longer dates; I'm looking forward to seeing you. How about eight at Churchkey?"

Stacie glanced at her watch; she had time to head home. "Eight it is. I'll see you then." Avery said goodbye, and they hung up. Stacie tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Sorry to do this, but can we head back to my place. Change of plans."

The driver flicked his eyes up into the rearview mirror and smirked, "No problem." Stacie had half a mind to smack that smirk off of his face, but she suddenly found her second wind and didn't seem to care all that much.

It would be really great to see Avery.

###

Stacie only had an hour and a half before her date, so she hurried around her one bedroom apartment in Dupont Circle. Unpacking wasn't on the agenda, so she shoved her luggage in the closet. Her apartment felt foreign to her, but at least it was clean, she thought.

After showering and slipping into a simple black cocktail dress, Stacie finished her hair and added a small amount of make-up—not that she needed it, but a little lipstick never hurt. She then had to transfer all of her items to a small black purse—her cover story items, like the State Department I.D. and driver's license with "Casey Law" listed next to her picture. Before slipping the plastic cards into the purse's matching wallet, Stacie stared at them, internally shaking her head at the idea that she lived more as Casey than as Stacie.

She quickly walked a block or two north, grabbed some cash from the ATM, and headed to Kramerbooks to get Avery's gift. After paying for James Gleick's The Information (an item on Avery's wish list), Stacie slipped an envelope of cash inside the front cover before putting it back into the bag. From there, she caught a cab and made her way to Churchkey. She couldn't help but thumb through the book; Avery never ceased to surprise her with her range of interests. This time, it was a book about the information age, a topic that the two women had yet to discuss over the course of their 'dates.' Stacie looked forward to what was always a relaxing and engaging conversation with the beautiful and intelligent Avery.

The cab driver stopped in front of the small beer bar and gave Stacie a gruff "thanks" after she paid him. Stacie knew that Avery would already be there with a table in the often crowded bar; she climbed the rather steep steps and shook off the small wave of nervousness that crept up on her. She had seen Avery a number of times when she lived in D.C. and was working in the Counterterrorism Division, but it had been a while and she felt…rusty, for lack of a better word. But, she knew that Avery was kind and would be forgiving for any missteps that Stacie might make during their date.

Avery sat at a small table near the front of the bar, against the glass that looked over 14th Street. Stacie grinned and walked over to the table. Avery rose to meet her.

"Avery, you look stunning as always," Stacie offered by way of a 'hello.' They hugged, and Avery softly replied, "As do you, and you smell good, too." Avery had turned her head and caressed Stacie's neck with her cheek as she inhaled the mixture of Stacie's shampoo that smelled like a rainforest and her perfume, which Avery immediately noted was new.

Stacie handed Avery the bag, which Avery took then pulled the book out while she sat back down at the table.

"Thank you for the book. I can't wait to start reading it." Avery flipped through the first pages and didn't visibly acknowledge the envelope, but Stacie knew that she saw it. She also appreciated the trust because Avery didn't open the envelope this time. She'd make a pretty good spy, Stacie thought amusingly.

Stacie settled into her chair. "I was surprised by the topic. I'm used to discussing literature with you. I'm not sure that I'm ready for any IT talk." The smile that accompanied Stacie's quip drew out a similar grin from Avery.

Avery laughed softly and tossed her curled long brown hair over one shoulder, which contrasted nicely with the sleeveless red dress that she was wearing. She knows that I like her in red, Stacie reflected as she watched Avery's hands toy with her hair. "Well, I'm not ready to discuss IT yet either, so we're safe. Do you want a drink? I waited to order until you got here."

"I would love a drink," Stacie replied with a bit more enthusiasm than she had intended.

They each ordered one of the many draft beers offered and then decided on sharing a cheese plate. Their conversation was easy and relaxed; Stacie missed this. She missed her stimulating conversations with Avery; she missed D.C. And, the realization that her stay here would be short-lived weighed on her. She'd be stuck with Belgian beer and no Avery for an indefinite amount of time. Stacie visibly changed with this thought, and it didn't go unnoticed by Avery. Their evening had gone well so far, and they were about to leave when Stacie's mood shifted.

Avery reached her hand across the small table to grab Stacie's . "Hey, are you okay? Did I say something to upset you?"

Stacie immediately shot her head and looked into Avery's eyes. "No, of course not. I just…" she hesitated. "I have to go overseas again to do some research, and it just hit that I'll miss this." She shrugged in an effort to convey nonchalance, but Avery wasn't biting.

"Miss what? The noise in here?" Avery tried joking.

Stacie gave her a half-smile before she said, "Good American craft beer and talking to you." The look that Stacie sent Avery's way was almost shy, which Avery had never seen from Stacie 

(well, Casey, really).

"I've missed talking to you, too. I'm glad you called." Avery always knew how to reassure her, Stacie thought.

"Any interest in not talking?" Stacie playfully asked in a lowered voice as she quirked an eyebrow.

Avery's blue eyes sparkled as a bright grin spread across her face. "Not talking with you sounds exactly how I'd like to spend the rest of the night."

Santana paid the bill, and they jumped into a cab to head to Stacie's apartment. Not talking was exactly what Stacie needed.

###

Avery always knew what she needed, Stacie reflected as she tightened her grip in chestnut-colored hair and arched her hips. With Avery's tongue skillfully bringing her closer to another orgasm, Stacie tried to let everything slip away—the stressful travel, the pain, the loneliness, the anxiety about her new assignment. Right now, in the dark with a woman who knew her only as Casey, Stacie felt more grounded and connected than she had in a long time.

Hours later, Stacie had her arms wrapped around Avery while Avery traced her fingers lightly along a taut abdomen. She kept returning to a jagged scar on the left, just above Stacie's hip. "What happened?" Avery asked quietly.

Stacie was brought of her reverie and opened her eyes. She dragged her hand up Avery's back into her hair. "Hmm?"

"What happened here?" Avery repeated, delicately running her finger over the scar.

"Oh that. Wrong place, wrong time."

"I didn't know economic research could be the so dangerous."

Stacie could hear the smile in Avery's voice, and she laughed softly at the reply. "I didn't either. I'm glad I don't have to go back to Belarus for a while."

"I'm glad you don't either."

It amazed Stacie that this woman, who barely knew anything about her except how to make her come over and over again, could make her feel cared for, even here in the stillness of the early morning. She felt safe at the moment, which, in her line of work, often seemed like a rare commodity. Avery continued drawing her finger over the scar before kissing it and tucking her head under Stacie's chin. They fell asleep like that, and Stacie wondered if it would always be like this: seeing Avery every two years for one night and then going off to a foreign land without the prospect of feeling warm and safe for who knew how long. It wasn't enough, and she knew Avery was just a quick fix to a larger issue. Despite all of her protest to the contrary, Stacie wanted something more significant. How she was going to find that when she was flying off to Brussels in 48 hours was an entirely different problem that she wasn't ready to face.


End file.
